ffing, and
cocking its ears in their direction. Then, without showing any
particular alarm, it walked on, and passing within twenty yards of
them, disappeared again.

They had to let it go; it was perhaps the cruelest moment they had
lived through.

Deer might be out of the question, but if they were to keep alive, it
was absolutely necessary that they should find something, and they
separated in order to look for small game.

In the course of an hour or two they all straggled back to the camp
fire, half frozen and empty-handed. Macgregor indeed had seen a
partridge, but his muscles had been so benumbed that he missed his
throw.

After warming themselves, they made another expedition--all but
Maurice, who had neuralgic pains in his face, and who remained by the
fire. But again Peter and Fred came back without game.

The sun had set by this time, and it was hopeless to try again. A
hungry night was inevitable, but they tried so to arrange matters that
at any rate they would be warm. They gathered all the wood that they
could break off or lift. Then with their snowshoes they dug down to
the ground, heaping the snow up in a rampart behind them, and piled in
balsam twigs, and trusted that in this pit they would be able to sleep.

It grew dark rapidly, and the wind rose. The fire, flaring and
smoking, drove smoke and sparks into their faces until their eyes
streamed. It made the leeward side of the fire almost unbearable,
whereas the windward side was freezingly cold.

The temperature was perhaps not quite so low as the night before, but
the gale made it far more disagreeable. Regardless of smoke and
sparks, they had to sit as near the fire as they dared, or risk
freezing. Sleep was impossible.

All three of them were faint and sick with starvation, but the plight
of Maurice was the most wretched. His neuralgia had grown agonizing;
his face was badly swollen, and he sat with his head buried in his
arms, and his inflamed cheek turned to the heat.

Much as they sympathized with him, they could do nothing to relieve
him, except to try to keep up the fire. This task caused them endless
trouble. The high wind made it burn furiously fast, and the small
branches they had gathered were licked up like magic. They had thought
there was enough fuel for the night, but soon after midnight Fred and
Peter were foraging about in the deep snow and the storm for a fresh
supply.

Toward morning their endurance broke